


robot wants bucky to give her a hug

by robotwrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Insert, idk - Freeform, so much bullshit, this is literally just me venting half the time tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:45:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotwrites/pseuds/robotwrites
Summary: bucky barnes needs to end my pathetic life with that arm and that’s the tea.[a collection of first person self-insert bullshit i write to deal with life]





	1. On Self Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is vent writing about myself (or my mcusona if you wanna think of it that way, but cynthia is a very shameless self insert so i just use first person pronouns because there’s no distinction in my mind). oops. i’ve been going through a rough patch in terms of self worth and body image, and i‘ve been turning to bucky for support. a lot of this is pretty revealing about my mindset and life outlook, so if you’ve ever dealt with this sort of thing before and are easily affected by mentions of depression and its manifestations, i’d advise not reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this starts by highlighting bucky’s protective instincts but, of course, i go and mess it up by being self deprecating.
> 
> enjoy.

T’Challa hands me the book. The cover, though coated in dust, is still vibrant after 70 years. The star in the center is unmistakable.

I now hold the key to the Winter Soldier.

“I took it from Zemo. Sergeant Barnes wished for you to have it.” 

“Why on God’s green Earth - Shouldn’t we, like... burn it or something?” 

“I thought the same, but he insisted.” 

Bucky’s been out of cryogenic sleep for a few hours and is preparing to leave Wakanda. Shuri had done the best she could, which was a _lot_ , but HYDRA’s effects on him ran deep - into emotional territory, something not chemical or electrical in his brain, but buried in the subconscious. In his soul. We’re going to live alone in the woods where nobody can find us; Where I can take him through auditory psychotherapy in peace.

(It had been Tony’s idea.) 

“Well, thank you regardless, your highness. Your kindness could never be repaid.” 

“You are most welcome. And please, Cynthia. Call me T’Challa.”

I smile, nod, and leave the lab. 

After Shuri flies us to the cabin Tony bought for us in the American wilderness and we settle down to eat, I finally ask.

“Why do you -” I stutter, but I know I have to spit the words out, or they’ll get stuck in my head forever. “Why do you want me to have... the... the book?” 

He stops short mid-fork-raising. “I don’t know.” He doesn’t look at me. 

“T’Challa told me it was you who made the decision to give it to me instead of destroying it.” 

“I want you to have it. I don’t think I need to explain myself.” 

“Considering the fact that ‘it’ is the object that activates your brainwashing and caused, y’know, the _incident_ a year ago, I’m gonna have to disagree.” 

“I need to be able to protect you,” he says quickly. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I mean -“ He puts his head in his hands for a second. “I mean that I can defend you more... efficiently if you have the words.” 

My eyes widen at the thought. “Bucky, I would never activate you. Not even in the worst situation possible, I would _never_ -“ 

“But you might have to,” he snaps. “Look, I just want you to have it in case we’re ever in a situation that only the... the Winter Soldier could handle.” He finally looks me in the eyes. “You’re smart, you understand the fight or flight response. There could be a time that I flinch. If you can activate me, you could make it so I never even consider running. I don’t want to let you down. _That’s_ why I want you to have the book.” 

I sit there, in awe. “Bucky,” I laugh a bit as I speak, “If you feel like running, _everybody_ should feel like running.” The joke doesn’t go through, so I continue. “And sometimes, you have to leave things behind to survive. If one of those things is ever me, you don’t have to hesitate. You’re way more important.” 

“But I’m not.” 

“Look,” I say, throwing up my hands and taking a breath to stop myself from yelling. “I don’t want to argue about this. I’ll keep it if that’s what you really want. but don’t count on me using it.” 

A silence falls over us, and we don’t speak until we‘re laid down to sleep. 

I curl into myself, surrounding myself with blankets.

It’s cold in here.

It’s cold in the whole cabin. Snuggling the human furnace on the other side of the bed may be a good plan, but I’m too lost in my brain to consider it.

At this point, I don’t even know what I’m worrying about. My thoughts are moving too fast. I can’t sleep. It’s too much, _too much,_ **_too much -_ ** **_  
_ **

“Hey.” 

_Oh, God._ _  
_

“I’m fine, Bucky, just...” I pull the covers over me tighter. “...go to sleep.” 

He waits until I’m still again, then asks, “When are you going to stop that?” 

“Stop what?” 

“That thing where you... don’t care how you’re doing and make everyone focus on themselves, and ignore your needs.” 

“That’s called...” I yawn mid-sentence. “...selflessness, Bucky.” 

“Well, I’d call it self neglect.” 

I stop talking. Nothing I can say would change his mind. 

He‘s right, anyway. 

“Look, I… I know you struggle with this weird... thing. That I couldn’t ever understand. But you need to stop being so... uh...” He fights through his exhaustion to find the word. “Self-defeating? Self-deprecating? I - I don’t know. Just... let yourself feel good, alright?” He sighs. “Telling others that you’re fine how you are is a total lie. Because you’re not. You don’t let yourself feel good because you’re afraid of being brought back down. You don’t let yourself feel loved because you’re afraid of being hurt.”

He waits to see if I have anything to say, but I’m frozen. “Just... let it happen. Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?” 

I can’t respond. He just got into my head. Spilled everything I tried to hide from others. _Must not be very good at hiding things, then._

“How’d you figure all that out?” 

“Because I... relate, I guess.” 

“Oh.” 

Silence again. 

“Promise me you’re going to work on this, okay? I’ll help you.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” I just close my eyes. I’m resolved to escape this conversation through sleep, but he isn’t letting me. He slides towards me, his body heat starting to warm me up. Maybe I could - maybe, just for a little bit - 

_No. You’re not allowed to have that. You don’t deserve it._ _  
_

“You’re freezing.” 

“I’m _fine_ .” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“Please leave -“ I hold back a sob. “Leave me alone.” 

“If you wanted to be alone, you wouldn’t have offered to live in the damn woods with me, Cynth. You would have isolated yourself in the compound and been alone for real. But you’re here, and it’s the choice you made. You _don’t_ want to be alone.”

I consider the ramifications of crying in front of someone I respect while he and I lay still again.

And then he touches my shoulder. 

I scream, nearly jumping out of my skin when I feel his metal hand on me. It’s not that it’s cold, it’s just... contact. 

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he says as I try to slow my breathing. 

“It’s - fine.” I force the words out to try to reassure him. 

He actually touched me. To console me.

 _I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before._

“If you don’t want me to do that, I’ll stop. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.” 

The infinitely small, weak, hopeful voice in my mind somehow surfaces, and tells me to just let it happen.

And for once in my damn life, I listen.

“No, actually -“ I have a moment of doubt, but he guesses. 

“You want me to do it again?” 

“If you… want to. You don’t have t-“ 

He’s already pulling me towards himself, his metal arm over my chest, and my eyes go wide. _Oh my God, it’s actually happening. What the fuck -_ _  
_

My back hits his chest, and I was right, he’s _really_ warm. It’s a challenge not to struggle against his pull, to not freak out. _Just breathe, he’s not gonna hurt you, calm down._ _  
_

My head fits under his chin; His whole body is curled around me, like a human shield. I feel... safe. 

Weird. 

He finally stops fidgeting once he puts his other arm under my pillow, and asks a simple question: if I’m alright. 

I’m at a loss for words. 

He asked if I’m alright. Why is he being so nice to me? I don’t deserve this.

I can’t understand. I just _can’t_ understand.

The crying starts, and it takes me a minute to get words out.

“I’m - sorry that I’m like this, you - you d-deserve better.” I’m an ugly crier. My body is shaking with sobs, my whole face is red. _This is bad, stop acting like a fucking baby, you are so fucking stupid -_

His metal hand gently, softly wipes away my tears, and in my surprise, I don’t fight it. He seems so unphased by this, like it’s something he always could do.

“Cynth,” His voice goes through my body, now that we’re so close. “Stop saying things like that. You just need time to get used to this.” 

“I don’t think _this_ will - happen again,” I say between sobs. “You’ll get sick of me - eventually. I’m too high maintenance.”

A soft laugh escapes him. “I’d say you’re the _opposite_ of high maintenance, actually, considering that asking people for things is the opposite of what you like to do.”

I stop talking again. I’m trying to calm my brain down, to _force_ it to realize that he’s right, but it’s not working, until he takes my hand in his metal one. 

He lifts it to his face and kisses it, and I am filled with a calm that I haven’t felt before. Safe, warm, meaningful calm.

“You’ll get through this. It’s just part of being human.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You ready to sleep?” 

“I was ready 20 minutes ago, but someone just had to go and expose my deepest fears and emotions.” 

He pulls me a little closer and I sleep my deepest sleep in years. 

Guess that’s what happens when you trust people.


	2. twitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mcu me has a twitch because of... things that happen in aou. vent writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this at 10:36 on a school night because i felt like shit lmao

twitch.

_ just breathe, it’s fine, it won’t happen again. _

three minutes and 47 seconds pass.

twitch.

_ you’re just tired. _

two minutes, 29 seconds.

twitch.

_ if they notice, i’m in the med wing for a week. _

an hour.

no twitching.

bucky steps in to check on me, like he always does, the metal arm making that clicking noise that makes my brain very happy and his presence makes me feel gentle and -

twitch.

“...what was that?”

“oh, uh - it’s, uh…”

“spit it out, cynth. don’t got all day.”

“the - the cradle.” i put down the soldering iron. “didn’t sit well with my scars. it’s supposed to perfectly restore cells but it got messed up halfway through.” i rest my head in my hand, fiddling with a screw on the table. “just another great part of being me! ugly, dumb, AND a twitch!” i laugh, heartlessly, crushed by both the hopelessness of my mood swing and the emotion itself.

“only one of those is true, you know it.”

“ugly?”

he sighs, rests his head on the doorframe. he’s frustrated.

he’s so far away.

“stop saying things like that.”

“i’m trying.”

“i know.”

he looks into my eyes, welled up with defeated tears. i can’t look back at him.

sound drops out of my brain, all i hear is  _ noise _ , means nothing,  _ is nothing, like  _ **_me -_ **

he’s so close.

warm and big and soft, pulling me into his chest like my life depends on it.

he rubs my arms gently, grounds me, pulls the emotion out, keeps me safe from myself.

twitch.


End file.
